Killing Kyle
by Unloved Pairings
Summary: Remembering is easier than making new memories when you're twenty-nine years old & counting. They play in Kenny's head like a movie, and there's one summer in particular he'd like to be transported back to. Kenny/Kyle, Kenny/Stan, Kenny/multiple others. Rated for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey-o, readers! I'm sorry I haven't uploaded anything lately, real life and all that. Anyway, I've decided to get in the spirit of the season by uploading a new multi-chapter story (the first chapter is something of an introduction). This is my gift to you - I hope you enjoy it! Happy Winter!**

* * *

You know, it's easy to get lost in your memories. You sit back in your crappy one-room apartment in a crappy recliner chair with a can of crappy beer and play them in your head like a film. Which is convenient, since you don't have a TV set or enough money to go the theater.

Or maybe it's just me.

Here I am, twenty-nine, and still living the bachelor's life. The last year I'll be able to call myself "twenty-something". Thirty. That scares me. I take another swig of cheap beer and grimace. It taste like loneliness.

Yep. Just me and the old memories. They make me feel younger, back to a time when "thirty" seemed to be a million years away. Young and stupid. Stupid_-er, _at least.

There's one in particular I can't get enough of. Summer of 2008. I was seventeen, invincible. I could do anything, and I certainly did. I bent a dozen guys over the hood of my car, and I myself bent over for twice as many. When you first discover sex, you can't get enough of it. I still can't.

I was selfish, like all seventeen-year-olds, but not selfish enough to abandon my friends when they needed me.

Me, Kyle, and Stan. We were inseparable. We would have done anything for one another.

_Anything. _

So, that summer, we killed Kyle.

Okay, okay, I know what you're thinking, but we didn't kill him _literally._ There's a story, you know. So kick your feet back, grab a can of Miller High Life, and get comfortable, 'cause you're gonna be here for a while.

I press the play button in my head, and the movie starts...


	2. Chapter 2

I remember the day better than I remember what I had for breakfast this morning. It was kind of breezy, and a little bit cloudy; the kind of Summer day that made you want to get out and do something.  
I was driving the car I'd recently picked up at a guy's house for 500 bucks. It was a beige-ish '79 Vauxhall Astra, and it was absolutely hideous. It needed to be jumpstarted twice a week, and it had something like 150,000 miles on it. I guess I liked it because it had the steering wheel on the right instead of the left. To me, it didn't matter that it was a piece of junk. It was my first car, and I was proud of it.

I was heading over to Stan's house to pick him up. We were gonna go roller-skating with Kyle. I had the window down, the wind in my hair. I'd let it grow out a bit, and it almost reached my shoulders. I always seemed to look better in the summer, with a slight tan, sun-bleached hair and freckles across my nose. Damn, I was fine.

My car didn't have a CD player, but it did play cassettes. I grabbed one off the dash and shoved it in the slot. Journey. Nice.

I wasn't much of a singer, but when I was alone, I was Steve Perry and I sang like an angel. I mumbled along with the track.

_They say that the road_  
_Ain't no place to start a family_  
_Right down the line it's been you and me_  
_And loving a music man_  
_Ain't always what it's supposed to be_  
_Oh Girl,_  
_You stand by me_  
_I'm forever yours,_  
_Faithfully._

When I pulled up into the Marsh family's driveway, I didn't see Stan, which was odd, since he usually waited for me outside the house. I took the key out of the ignition and sauntered on inside. I didn't need an invitation to enter my best friend's house, after all.

I noticed something was wrong as soon as I walked in. Everything just felt... off.

"Stan? Where are ya?"

"In my room, come on up," He shouted back. His voice sounded... tired, like he'd just had to get a toddler to take a nap. I ran up the stairs, full speed.

"Hey, what's the matter, you sound..." My voice trailed off. Stan was sitting on his bed, with his arm around Kyle. Our redheaded friend was bent over, his head in his hands. There was a duffel bag lying on the floor. I chose not to make a snarky remark about being a sissy. It didn't seem like this was the time for jokes. "Kyle? You okay?"

He shook his head, but didn't look up at me. Damn, was anyone gonna let me know what was going on?

I looked over at Stan for an explanation. He sighed.

"His parents found out he likes dudes, and they kicked him out," Stan said sleepily. Kyle made a pained whining sound, and Stan rubbed his shoulder.

"Damn, Kyle... You need a place to stay?"

"I'm letting him stay here for now," Stan offered. "He's pretty upset about his parents, though."

"Man, I bet. I can't believe they just tossed you out like that." I sat on the other side of Kyle; the bed bounced a little under the new weight.

Kyle sniffed, speaking for the first time since I entered.

"They didn't even sound sorry about it... They just wanted me gone."

"Jeeze Kyle, that sucks, man," I said, and I really meant it. I might have been an asshole on the outside, but I hated seeing my friend upset. All I wanted to do was make it better.

And then... I got an idea. No, not just an idea, THE Idea. I stood up, ready to announce my master plan.

"I know how to make them sorry about it."

They both looked up at me, questions on their faces. I basked in the attention for a full two seconds before telling them The Idea.

"Okay, they're not sorry about how they kicked you out now, but I bet they'd be sorry if they knew they'd never see you again."

Kyle gave me the skunk-eye. I didn't let it faze me.

"Kyle, we're going to kill you."

"What?! Dude!"

"Not actually kill you," I snorted. "But what if we pretended you died? You could hide out in my apartment, and we could have a funeral for you and everything! Genius, right?"

Kyle was grinning, and that made me grin. I loved knowing I'd made him forget about his troubles, just for a little while.

"Kenny, you're an asshole," he snickered. "I love you, man."

"So, are we doing this?" Stan asked, smiling like an idiot.

"Hell yeah we are," I answered for Kyle. "Come on, we gotta go plan your funeral."


End file.
